


I don't mean no harm (I just miss you on my arm)

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: Not a lot of people are brave enough to talk to Grant in that tone of voice, period, but even fewer will talk to him like that when he’s sporting full tac gear and has his ready-to-kill-SHIELD-agents face on. He’s really not surprised that Agent Simmons falls into the latter category.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Is that title too long? Possibly. But it's also from "i hate u, i love u" by gnash. 
> 
> For the prompt "I'm tired."

“Where are you going?”

Not a lot of people are brave enough to talk to Grant in that tone of voice, _period_ , but even fewer will talk to him like that when he’s sporting full tac gear and has his ready-to-kill-SHIELD-agents face on. He’s really not surprised that Agent Simmons falls into the latter category.

“On a mission,” he says, putting aside his murder face for a more friendly one. He likes Simmons. She’s brave. Brave enough she snapped at John last month. ‘Course, that might’ve had something to do with her having just gotten off a cross-Atlantic Quinjet ride.

The mission had her going up against a psychotic Gifted who knew her by name (never a good combination) and to top it all off she had to spend hours in the air before and after. When Grant heard the details of what happened to her during the Uprising, he was surprised she’d managed to board the damn thing even once, let alone twice.

But John only laughed when she told him to keep his “butchers“ away from her wounded. He even told her he liked her spunk. Hence her still being alive to frown at Grant.

She’s clearly unamused by his obvious answer. “I thought you hurt your shoulder last week.”

He shrugs the left so she can see it still works right through all the layers he’s got on. “Just a flesh wound. Medical says I’m good to go.”

She makes an ugly noise and rolls her eyes.

“Are you questioning Medical’s ability to do their job?” he asks.

“No,” she says primly. “I’m outright refuting it. Those butchers-” she really does like that word, doesn’t she? “-don’t care about _health_ , only about usefulness. So long as you can absorb more bullets, they have no problem sending you or anyone else out into the field.”

He can’t help but grin. Simmons really is tough as nails - not a lot of people would so openly insult the surgical division - and, according to John, she’s smarter than half the lab monkeys he’s got running around this place. “If you’re so worried,” he says, “I’ll let you look me over when I get back. How’s that?”

Her annoyance fades into a smile. A very pretty one, just what he needs before heading out. “That’s not what I meant,” she says. “Only…” Her smile fades into something more serious, something far away. She steps close to touch his arm. “Be careful.”

“Always am.” Behind him, he can hear Markham calling. He steps away. “But, if it helps, I promise to kill some extra SHIELD agents just for you, to make sure they can’t hurt me.” The news that he’s going up against SHIELD doesn’t cheer her up at all, if anything she looks a little sick. “See you soon, princess,” he promises.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There is dirt from three different continents in Grant’s shoes, his tac gear feels like it’s been on so long it’s leaving lines in his skin, and his head’s still pounding from the hit that SHIELD agent got on him. So the only thing he wants when he gets back to base is to be relieved to return to his quarters for a long shower and a longer nap, _not_ to be stopped in his tracks by the sight of some mouth breather with his arm around Simmons’ shoulders and his head tipped close to hers.

From this angle, Grant can just see the grin on the guy’s face. He toys with the idea of knocking out a couple of those perfect teeth.

“Evie?” he asks, pitching his voice over his shoulder to where Markham and his girlfriend are getting reacquainted after four days apart. “Who’s that?”

She extracts her face from Markham’s long enough to get a good look at the guy. “Paul Knight,” she says readily. That’s the thing about desk jockey comms agents: they may not earn their keep out in the field, but they make it their business to know everyone else’s, always useful when you wanna blackmail somebody. “SHIELD traded him to the feds for a couple of their people who got mixed up in that mess in Berlin. He spent most of yesterday reporting to Garrett on everything he knows about SHIELD’s current operations and I guess now he’s catching up with Simmons.”

That’s one way of putting it. Simmons twists out of his hold, clearly uncomfortable with the public display, but then this Knight guy’s got her trapped against the wall. His fingers tip her chin up, lingering there…

“How’d he escape the feds?” Ortilla asks.

“It’s the feds,” Aldridge says, like that explains the incompetence. Which it does, honestly.

Knight - there’s really no other word for it - caresses Simmons’ arm. She turns her head away so Grant can’t see, opening things up so Knight can whisper seductively in her ear.

“Catching up?” Grant asks, his voice oddly distant even to his own ears.

Evie gives a heavy sigh and Markham lets out a faint - very faint, because he values his life - note of annoyance. “Yes,” she says testily, “they were on the same field team prior to the Uprising.”

That throws things into a different light.

“Be right back,” Grant says. There’s a steady amount of foot traffic in this hall. Not a lot, not enough two agents holding a private conversation is out of place, but enough neither of them notices him until it’s clear and obvious he’s not planning on redirecting around them. Knight’s got enough time to throw him a dirty, _back off_ kind of look before Grant’s fist is in his face.

Knight hits the floor with a satisfying cry of pain.

“Agent Ward!” Simmons gasps, all shock and confusion.

“Was this guy bothering you?” Grant asks calmly.

“What the hell?” Knight demands as he starts to stand.

Grant kicks him back down. “ _Jemma_ ,” he says firmly - and ignores the way Knight’s eyes light up, “was he bothering you?”

She wants to say no, he can see it. HYDRA’s not like SHIELD. There’s no protections in place when interoffice rivalries spring up. You’re either strong enough to beat the other guy on your own or - and Grant really hopes she’s smart enough to have picked up on this - you have friends who are.

Knight’s in the middle of some bullshit about them being old friends when she finally says a very quiet, “Yes. Yes, he was.”

“Oh, good,” Grant says. Then he’s down on Knight’s level, his knee in the other man’s gut and his sidearm under his jaw. “You won’t be bothering her again, you understand me, Knight?”

Knight shakes with impotent fury and his understanding’s obvious in his eyes.

“You don’t see her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t _know_ her. Got it?”

It’s gotta hurt, but Knight forces his chin down a fraction of an inch in a nod.

Grant stands, letting him draw in a full breath again, just so he can hear him scream when he shoots his knee out.

Then he focuses on Simmons, who’s pale and shaking a bit herself. Fuck. What’d this guy say to her?

“Hey,” he says gently while he holsters his gun. “I just got back from four days in the field. I’m tired and I’m dirty and I’m probably in need of medical attention.”

“All right?” she says slowly, sounding adorably confused.

He smiles. “You said you’d look me over…” He trails off when she starts nodding, finally remembering their conversation.

She’d never really agreed and he hadn’t really meant it. It was just some harmless flirting. She’s hot, he’s hot, why shouldn’t they appreciate each other’s hotness with empty conversation?

But now, after just seeing her with Knight’s hands all over her, he doesn’t want it to have been so empty.

“Right now?” she asks, looking to Knight still moaning on the ground at their feet. No one’s called a med team yet - or, if they have, they’re taking their sweet time about getting here - and Simmons is too soft a touch to just leave a man whimpering in pain on the floor. Even if he is the SOB who left her with a crippling fear of heights.

“Yeah,” Grant says, “right now.” He takes her hand, careful not to scare her after all that pawing at her Knight was doing, and tugs her down the hall. He sends a wave over his shoulder, telling the others to go on to the debrief without him and, in the half-second his focus is off her, Simmons' attention goes right back to Knight. He squeezes to pull her focus to him. “If I made it back without a scratch, do I get a treat?” he teases, hoping to coax a smile out of her.

She does _try_ to smile, but her eyes keep darting back over her shoulder. “You really think you made it back without a scratch? I can see at least one on your face …” Her thumb sweeps over his knuckles. “Several more on your hands.”

“If I did though,” Grant says, leading her around the corner to the elevators. “If you’re gonna insist on always looking after me, I think I should get something for my good behavior.”

“Like a lollipop?” There’s that smile. He missed it while he was gone. How did he not realize how much until now?

One of the elevators opens so that late med team can rush off to help Knight. Simmons’ smile disappears as she watches them go.

He’s gotta guide her into the elevator. Before it closes, that bastard starts screaming. Grant could shoot him again.

She starts shaking as the car climbs higher, and Grant pulls her to his chest. “You don’t need to worry about him ever again, okay? I promise.”

He rubs a hand up and down her back to sooth her fears, while making a mental note to talk to the guys up on twelve about special protocols for Knight. After an injury like that, there’s no question he’s joining the Deathlok program. Either he’ll be smart enough to follow orders and stay away from Simmons or his handlers will make sure he does.

 


End file.
